


Ask No Questions, Hear No Lines

by ienablu



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-27 02:16:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/656970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ienablu/pseuds/ienablu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maria Hill was recruited into SHIELD by Nick Fury ten years ago. Phil Coulson is remarkably unremarkable and enjoys non-standard coffee mugs. Nick Fury does not actually wrestle bears, to the best of common knowledge. SHIELD agents know everything about each other, and they know absolutely nothing about each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ask No Questions, Hear No Lines

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at [avengersfest](avengersfest.livejournal.com/5003.html), with a few typo clean ups, but no real changes to the story. (Will reply to the comments there when I can stop being too flattered to be coherent.)

On her first evaluation, Nick Fury concludes their meeting by telling her, “I like you. First moment I saw you, I knew I would. You’re a good one.”

She doesn’t tell him that her first thought was ‘ _Don’t look at the eyepatch._ ’

 

\- -- -

 

SHIELD is one of the more covert intelligence agencies on the world, and so she's given a cover. She's staying in the Navy, but she's shipping out overseas.

She tells this to her few friends from high school, her parents, her sister. Tells them she'll be gone for the next few years, won't be able to communicate that often. She gives her cat to her sister, and tries not to feel like she's becoming a ghost.

She writes her family at holidays and on birthdays and on anniversaries (and always sends the cards on time, always has back-up cards in the bottom of her desk in case an emergency arises and she can't come up with a better card), but other than that, she has very little contact with her family.

Her sister got married, a year back, and while Maria sent the best gift she could have under the circumstance, she was in Croatia, on a case, and wasn't able to take time off. Her sister hasn't forgiven her, likely _won't_ forgive her, Maria knows; it's not okay, not something easily accepted, but she's made peace with it.

She's made peace with _important_ , and how its meaning shifts from person to person; how it would have been important to her sister to have Maria be part of the wedding. How it was important to Fury to have Maria running point in Croatia. How it was more important to her to bring down a sect of the Advanced Idea Mechanics and help save the world than to attend the bachelorette party and be a bridesmaid.

She's made peace with the fact that day by day, missed holiday by missed holiday, she is losing her family.

 

\- -- -

 

The pre-mission report of Operation Sting stated its intent to send a highly skilled agent after the Black Widow, with the expected outcome to be the neutralization of a world security threat.

Instead, Hawkeye gave up his long-range advantage, approached her, and asked to bring her in as an agent. While all the high-ranking agents sputtered indignantly amongst themselves, Phil Coulson cleared the course of action.

Barton was smug, Romanoff was indifferent, and Coulson was perfectly composed.

"It was really funny," Coulson recounts. He’s nowhere near as composed as he was back then, but given how much they’ve had to drink, Maria doubts she looks all that composed either. "Barton looked so happy when he brought her in -- like, he looked like my old dog, Roger, when he fetched a frisbee. Eyes bright, looking so damn proud. 'Look what I brought you!'"

Coulson’s voice pitches up when he imitates his dog, and Maria laughs into her drink. "How did Romanoff like being a frisbee?"

He looks contemplative. "I think she would rather have been a frisbee than dead. It was a good call."

Coulson says _good _like Fury does.__

 

\- -- -

 

Barton is in her office. He's not drunk -- it's against SHIELD protocol to be under the influence while on duty, which in light of recent events is an unfortunate choice of words -- but there's a bottle with cheap tequila on her desk, and it's lacking a not-insignificant amount of liquid.

"He brought me in. In return, I got him killed."

And that, more than anything else, pisses Maria off. It discredits him -- Coulson knew what he was doing. Had Maria or Sitwell or Fury been in Coulson's position, they would have done the same. But Coulson was the one there, the one who made the call, and Maria knows it was a call he would have made every time. "He knew what he was doing. Now get out of my office."

He looks up at her, bleary-eyed. "It's my fault--"

"It's his own damn fault," she tells him. She saw the tape. He went out on his own terms. She sits down at her desk, and signs onto the system, and takes Clint off active-duty. Then she summons Romanoff and unceremoniously kicks Barton out of her office.

She spends a long moment looking at the bottle, before she screws the cap back on, and stashes it away in the bottom drawer of her desk, in front of the silver-wrapped present that's been gathering dust for months.

 

\- -- -

 

Before Anchorage in October, there was Bucharest in January.

Deputy Director Joseph F. Hendricks is the one to debrief her -- the Advanced Idea Mechanics are selling something they shouldn't be selling, something they shouldn't even have.

"Any questions?"

Maria Hill is twenty-four and hasn't been with SHIELD for a full four years yet. This is her first operation outside Madripoor, and she was under the impression she would be given her orders from her direct superior. "Is there any reason why you're the one debriefing me, not Agent Eriksson?"

"Yes," he replies. "Any other questions?"

She has a few follow-up questions, but three years is enough for her to have learned that SHIELD gives out information when it wants to, and she'll only go blue in the face before they cave into her questions.

"No, sir."

He looks at her for a moment, considering. When he says, "Good," it sounds just like Fury.

 

\- -- -

 

The World Security Council is doing evaluations. Rumor has it that they're looking to sack Fury; that one of the Councilmen was related to one of the agents killed in the battle on the Helicarrier; that they want to shut down SHIELD.

Within the first few questions, it becomes obvious they're concerned about what went wrong. It's a reasonable concern, because a lot went wrong. A lot of people are dead, a lot of people have to answer for it.

But a lot went right. Despite the casualties, despite the property damage, the Avengers saved the world, Fury made the right call.

Maria has disagreed with Fury's methods since her second week as Deputy Director, and she doesn't doubt she'll disagree with them in the future, but the bottom line is that there _is_ a future.

She doesn't like that the Council seems to be brushing over that fact.

Maria takes no pleasure in playing the politics of her job, but that doesn't mean she isn't good at it.

 

\- -- -

 

Maria is nearing her one year mark of being Deputy Director, when she runs into Carla in the break room. Which legitimately surprises her, since in all her time at SHIELD, she has never seen Carla anywhere besides the desk right before Fury's office.

While Maria knows most highly-populated areas of the base are monitored, she’s pretty sure the coffee break room is off-limits, and there’s something that’s been bothering her since Fury came back from his last meeting with the Council.

"Hey, Carla?"

Carla gives her a warm smile. "Maria," she greets.

Maria shifts so she's closer to Carla. "I know it's probably against procedure to ask this kind of question, but," she says, lowering her voice, "how many reports on Fury did Agent Hendricks submit during...?"

"Three," Carla replies, as she pours a spoonful of sugar into her drink.

She gives a sigh of relief. "Good to know," she murmurs. "He looked a bit... annoyed, when he came back from his last hearing.”

"Three," Carla repeats, more slowly, "during his tenure."

Maria stiffens. 

Carla beams. "Don't worry about it," she says, as she stirs her coffee. "Fury is only annoyed that his meetings with the Council take too long, I think he secretly enjoys being called out on his shit. And I enjoy not having to fabricate agents to do it."

Maria stares at her.

Carla takes a sip of her coffee, and nods. "Have a good morning, Maria," she says, cheerily as ever, as she heads back to her desk.

 

\- -- -

 

The first time Maria Hill meets Phil Coulson, she almost doesn't notice him. She's been on shift for thirty-six hours, helping Fury deal with some delicate diplomatic discussions. He’s just another body in the room, another agent in a suit, another white middle-aged man, another body in the way of her and the coffeemaker.

Then she notices the coffee mug.

It's not the standard white mug with the SHIELD logo, which fill the dish drying rack, or the cabinet above the coffeemaker. It's navy, with a white glaze that's thicker in some places more than others. At any other office it wouldn't be all that special, or remarkable.

She notices him noticing her staring, so she clears her throat. "Nice mug," she tells him, hoping it doesn't come off as forced as it sounds to her.

"Thank you," he says, giving her a polite smile. "My sister made it, a few years ago. She has a friend who lets her play around in their kiln. She has a fondness for coffee mugs."

"Extra-large coffee mugs?" Maria asks, looking down at the mug.

He gives a small laugh. "It's why she sent it to me. I get a new one every Christmas."

Maria gives him a tight smile. Small talk has never been her strong suit, and she feels slightly out of her league. And under-caffeinated. So she just nods, and says, "Agent Coulson."

"Agent Hill," he replies, and leaves the break room.

She watches him go.

He's good.

 

\- -- -

 

There is only one time that Maria and Fury work together in the field -- deputy directors, let alone the director, generally don’t go into the field for undercover operations.

But the case needs a black man who can only see out of their left eye, and Fury is the only agent of SHIELD who matches that description. Fury isn’t touchy about the subject, but that’s because Maria guesses not many people actually bring the subject up.

“Hendricks went under one time,” Fury reminisces, when Maria asks about the frequency of directors and deputy directors going undercover. “Back in 2001, it was one of his first assignments as deputy director. He didn’t care for the undercover ops that much, but he was still a good agent.”

She remembers -- during one of their many talks between Bucharest and Anchorage -- him mentioning going undercover. How he said it didn’t end well, but to keep sane in this field, if it doesn’t end well, dwell only long enough to learn from any mistakes, then put it out of mind.

Hendricks gave her a lot of advice, and that was the one that stuck with her.

She puts it out of mind, and turns to her dossier on the case.

Operation Swing is meant to bring down a sect of one of the country’s more dangerous anti-technology cults. SHIELD already took down the powerhouse sect on the eastern coast, and now they’re heading to the west coast. One of the leaders of the cult, Nick Nicholson, was collected by SHIELD agents, but the news was not widely spread among the cult, and and Fury was a perfect match for Nicholson: right age, right build, right ethnicity, right eye.

Though Maria is pretty sure that Fury didn’t lose his eye in a tragic bear-wrestling accident.

Maria was going undercover as Mariah Nicholson, the woman Nick had met and married on his way to the west-coast.

Coulson bursts out laughing when she adds that. “If you and Fury ever get married, promise me you will invite me to the wedding.”

Maria smiles at him over the mouth of her Corona. “It was a shotgun wedding, though Nick was considerate enough to ask my father first. I am a very old-fashioned girl.” She waves off his burst of laughter. “That wasn’t even the funniest part of the mission.”

The mission itself wasn’t all that exciting, or entertaining, since Maria’s role in-character was to be Nick’s dutiful wife, and her real job was to be Fury’s last line of defense. Fury didn’t seem all that engaged by his role or job either, and the mission went quickly, him managing to manipulate all the major players and get all the information he needed to bring the sect down within a week.

This didn’t sit too well with a few members who hadn’t been at the cult’s base that had SHIELD stormed.

“A few...?”

“Eight.”

Maria had been in the kitchen when they had all come in, guns blazing. Her nearest gun was in the lettuce crisper in the fridge, but the knife block had been right in front of her.

“What was the body count?”

“Zero,” she replies, enjoying how his expression goes from faintly horrified to amazed. “Though I think one guy had to get facial reconstruction surgery when I hit him with a frying pan.”

"A frying pan?" Coulson repeats, dubiously, his Long Island Iced Tea hovering before him. "It doesn't seem very effective as a weapon. Swinging it would leave you open for blocking or dodging."

"Didn't swing it," she replies, taking a long swig. "Slammed it behind me. Broke his nose."

He looks at her, appreciatively. "I wish there was surveillance coverage of that," he says wistfully.

She sighs. Fury has made a few implications that a frame from video footage survived, but that would go against SHIELD protocol. "Me too."

 

\- -- -

 

They're in Oslo, and the situation is bad, and rapidly getting worse.

Maria is with O'Grady in the surveillance van, watching helplessly as the mission takes a myriad of turns for the worse.

"I'm open to suggestions," O'Grady says, evenly, to Maria.

His comm link is still on, though, and Blake says, "I say we abort. Level Five, right now."

A few agents chime in, some backing a Level Five abort, some more in favor of a Level Six.

"I could play a patsy," Sitwell suggests. "I do an excellent patsy."

Maria has heard of Sitwell's patsy.

O'Grady is in charge of the mission, but with Blake in the field, Maria is his direct supervisor, and she makes all final decisions.

She clears Sitwell's request.

And buys the first round of drinks when they're back Stateside.

 

\- -- -

 

The common assumption is that Maria and Natasha Romanoff should get along perfectly, as they are the two highest-ranking women in SHIELD.

In all actuality, Maria's predominant feeling towards Romanoff is wariness. She'd guess Romanoff's feelings towards Maria veer towards disinterest. They have sparred, on occasion, and Maria respects Romanoff's superior combat skills. A few missions have placed Romanoff under Maria's command, and Romanoff respected Maria's authority and obeyed direct orders.

When she was promoted to Deputy Director, Maria gained access to Romanoff's file, both when she was a security threat to be monitored, and now that she's an agent. She's read about the body counts, the secrets sold, the intel compromised. She's read the transcript, knows the only reason she joined SHIELD was because she owed Barton a debt.

She's voiced her concerns to Fury, who said he has similar concerns, but that they'd cross that bridge when they got to it.

(If Maria was pressed to say who her favorite other female agent was, she'd go with Carla Smith, Fury's secretary. She is sweet, petite, and the first time they sparred Maria went easy on her and Carla had her pinned in under a minute.)

 

\- -- -

 

She goes home, occasionally, and visits her family.

It's nice, but it doesn't feel right. She doesn't talk to them as herself, but as Petty Officer Maria Hill, deployed in Iraq, fighting for the safety of her country. Of all the covers she's been given, this is the hardest one to maintain.

(If nothing else, had she not left the Navy nine years ago to join SHIELD and fight for the safety of the world, she would have made Chief Petty Officer by now.)

She gives a few details about her 'fellow soldiers,' as they're all seated around the kitchen table, but quickly moves on to asking about what her family's been up to.

Her sister talks about her husband, how they're looking to start a family. Her mother talks about her friends. Her father excuses himself for the night.

On his way up, he grumbles about her catching such late flights back, wonders why she does it, why she even bothers coming back at all.

Her mother looks embarrassed, and tells Maria not to worry about him, he's just tired, he's had a long day.

As she lies in her old bed that doesn’t feel the same anymore, she doesn't worry, but she does wonder.

 

\- -- -

 

She asks Coulson, later, what his cover is.

He just gives her a blithe smile. "Killed in action."

"Really?" she asks. She knows Fury was labelled KIA, and it's an option given to agents, though most opt for the less-tragic, less-permanent MIA.

"It's easier."

"Really?" she repeats.

His smile doesn't falter, but he doesn't reply.

 

\- -- -

 

It occurs to her, later, that it's almost funny.

Phil Coulson.

Killed in action.

Barton’s liquor is still sitting in the bottom of her desk, and he hasn’t mentioned it in the past week, so she has very few qualms about drinking it.

She takes herself off the roster, first, citing personal leave.

 

\- -- -

 

They're in Anchorage, Alaska, with compromised intel, when Fury promotes Maria from Agent Hill to Acting Deputy Director Hill. The news makes her feel cold, a stark contrast to the hot spatter of Hendrick's blood on her face.

"Sir," she says, into the radio, also sticky with blood, "I don't know if I am the best candidate for this position."

"You're one of the senior-most agents on the field, and I wouldn't give you the position if I didn't think you were qualified for it. Now evac everyone, this is a Level Seven abort."

"Yes, sir."

She retains the title for the next month, until she reminds Fury to make a promotion.

 

\- -- -

 

They go through three Deputy Directors in the next two years.

Fury has called her in for a consultation for each of them, and once again he calls her in now.

There are files spread on his desk. At the top, right in front of Fury -- where every file has been for the men who have been promoted in the past -- is the file on Agent Eric O'Grady.

She represses a grimace. O'Grady is a good man, and a good agent, but he would be ineligible for the promotion based on his prison record alone. Fury may be reckless, may not always play by the book, but this is pushing it too far. There are plenty of agents good for the promotion.

And then she realizes Fury would push this far if he had something he was pushing towards.

Fury is looking at her expectantly, waiting.

"Sir," she says, because she's not in this for a career, but she knows her abilities well enough, "I would like to submit myself as a candidate for Deputy Director."

Fury leans back in his chair. "What's wrong with O'Grady?" 

"You don't want O'Grady," she tells him, bluntly. 

"Why don't I want O'Grady?"

He's looking for something. He wouldn't've offered if he didn't see it in her. "O'Grady is an excellent agent, he runs successful operations, he's the best at what he does, but what he does is run self-sustained two-dozen personnel missions. He struggles with a larger roster, and would struggle with maintaining all of SHIELD--"

"Have you worked with more than twenty-four agents?"

"I did when you first offered me the job," Maria points out.

Fury is silent for another moment, then smiles. He flips open O'Grady's file, only it was the cover of O'Grady's file, and Maria's own file is nestled inside. He gestures her to sit down, and turns the stack of papers towards her. "I was wondering how long it'd take you to take up my offer. It'll be good to have you on board, Deputy Director Hill."

It's got a ring to it.

 

\- -- -

 

"What we give up," Maria presses, the image of her niece she's never met in the back of her mind, "it doesn't bother you?"

Coulson takes a deep breath, and seems contemplative. "Sometimes," he says. "But working with SHIELD is not a death contract. We're allowed to enjoy ourselves, off-duty, and on-duty, we get to do some good. We give up a lot, we make others give up even more, but we're here, we get to make sure others get to live their lives. They get to live theirs, we get to live ours. Things will work themselves out in the end."

 

\- -- -

 

"I read all the Captain America comics when I was a kid," he admits. It’s their second time getting drinks together, and part of Maria is amazed at how open with information he is. "I wanted to be just like him. Wanted to do some good. SHIELD seemed like the best option. You?"

“IMF doesn’t actually exist,” she replies. It’s not a lie. Little girl, growing in a Chicago, she wanted nothing more than to be a glamorous secret agent. Kick ass, save the world.

“Really,” Coulson remarks, like he can’t tell how honest she’s being. She’s glad he has as much difficulty reading her as she does him. He leans in, slightly, eyes alight, looking honestly curious. "What was it like, though, being recruited by Fury?"

Maria never spent a long time thinking about it. “It was what it was. There’s not a lot to tell.”

He’s silent for a long moment, expression unchanging. “IMF?” he repeats, finally.

“Captain America?” she parrots.

“Hill, don’t start anything you’ll end up regretting,” he says, taking a slow sip of his drink.

She laughs, doesn’t think about how it may already be too late. 

 

\- -- -

 

There's a small bar, about three blocks over and one block down from the SHIELD headquarters, that SHIELD runs -- the World Security Council was cognizant of the fact that they could not ban (and enforce) SHIELD agents from drinking off-hours, but that they would need a safe place to go.

It's a fairly unremarkable bar, and on more than one occasion, Maria has heard patrons leaving wondering how how the hell the place stayed in business.

Maria just wonders how a bar that is compensated by SHIELD doesn't have enough money to keep Coronas in stock.

The flat screen above the bar is usually reserved for whatever sports game has the highest importance, but tonight it's oscillating between news stations, all of them replaying Tony Stark coming out as Iron Man.

The Avengers Initiative currently requires a Level Seven clearance to even state that the program details are restricted to Level Nine, and Maria is the only one with either clearance at the table. Meaning the animated discussion on assembling a superhero team is purely hypothetical.

"Batman," Woo is insisting. "If we're assembling a team of superheroes, we need Batman."

"And Superman," O'Grady says.

"Coulson?" Woo asks. "Batman, Superman and...?"

‘Captain America’ would be Coulson’s answer, if he were paying attention. But he’s too busy glaring up at the screen, eyes tracking the subtitles. He hasn't said a word to any of them, only to the passing waitresses to bring him another beer. While they've been talking, he's been stewing.

It's understandable, Maria knows Coulson probably wrote a damn good cover, and it's an inconvenience to SHIELD that Stark didn't follow it; but Maria's had a few to drink, and the fact Coulson is sulking has her biting her lip not to smile.

"Hill," Woo says, realizing Coulson is a lost cause. "Batman, Superman, and...?"

It takes her a moment to bring herself back to the conversation. "Are we talking about making a superhero team to prevent world crises, or intervene once they've started?"

"Either," Woo replies.

"The Black Widow," she says. 

O'Grady looks skeptical, and Woo repeats, "Superhero, Hill. Super _hero_."

"If you knew the Black Widow would come after you afterwards, are you telling me you wouldn't think twice?"

There's a long moment of silence, then Woo says, "Okay, I can see it." O'Grady nods, expression pinched.

"Captain America,” Coulson announces, cheeks flushed, “would have sticked to the script." And then he downs the rest of his beer.

Maria and O'Grady stifle their laughter.

"So our superhero team is Batman, Superman, the Black Widow, and Captain America?" Woo asks.

"We're fucked," O'Grady says, with a blithe smile. “Cheers.”

Maria holds up her Becks in a silent toast, before she finishes her drink off.

 

\- -- -

 

Phil Coulson's story alternates, depending on who he's talking to -- to most of everyone in SHIELD, he was raised a white-picket-fence kind of life, and was ineligible to join the army because of some childhood illness, and instead looked around to enlist to various intelligence offices, and out of all the applications he sent out, SHIELD was the one who picked him up.

To a few others -- Fury, Hill, Sitwell -- he explains that SHIELD was the only one who picked him up because they were the only agency he actually applied to. He explains his grandfather was in the army, back when Captain America was enlisted, and his grandfather actually briefly worked with Captain America. His grandfather died when Coulson was too young to hear the stories, but his father retold what his father had told him.

Nick Fury's story on joining SHIELD changes every time somebody asks him. He remembers each story he tells each person, and senior agents are excited when someone new is brought into SHIELD, curious to hear what Fury will tell them.

Every lie holds some kernel of truth, and Maria and Coulson confer, trying to figure out Fury's real past.

She has a feeling Coulson has picked up on something she hasn't, and waits for him to tell her.

He never gets the chance.

It only strengthens Maria's resolve to do it herself.

 

\- -- -

 

Maria reads the file on the Avenger Initiative when she first sees it posted on the server.

Next time she and Fury are at a moment where she can bring up Level Nine security material, she says she doesn’t think it’s a good idea.

With each subsequent update, she voices the same opinion.

When Tony Stark comes out as Iron Man, and there are possible superheroes for Fury’s fantasy superhero team, Maria intercepts Fury on his way to the airfield. The manifesto lists its destination as LA. “Sir, I still don’t think this is a good idea,” she tells him, one final time.

“Hill, I appreciate your consistency,” he tells her, before walking past her. Over his shoulder, he calls, “Would it make you feel any better to know that it’s been cleared by the Council?”

It really doesn’t.

 

\- -- -

 

With Coulson gone, Sitwell becomes the Avenger's new SHIELD liaison.

They don't go for drinks, but they chat in the break room every few days.

"I have no idea how he did it," Sitwell says, standing with his coffee that he hasn't touched yet.

Maria is already sipping at her drink. She raises an eyebrow.

"Stark is impossible," Sitwell says. "Thor is a god. Barton doesn't seem to listen to a thing I say. Romanoff and Banner terrify me. And Rogers doesn't seem to like me."

"You wouldn't be given the job if you weren't qualified for it," Maria tells him. It's the only piece of advice Fury has ever given her, and it's the only piece he's ever needed to.

"I know," Sitwell says, before finally taking a sip of his coffee. He makes a face. "Is this decaf?"

"I think so," Maria says. "Banner was in here, recently, and I think he made the last pot."

Sitwell looks at her contemplatively. "You know the Avengers pretty well. Why weren't you promoted to liaison?"

"Because it would be a demotion," Maria says, unrepentant. "I've got better things to do than be their babysitter."

"Thanks," Sitwell says, dryly, but he doesn't look offended.

Maria has very little to do with the Avengers, when it comes down to it. She's Fury's second in command, and Fury has a _lot_ to do with the Avengers, but as the deputy director, then when Fury has a lot to do with the Avengers, she's busy keeping the Helicarrier running as smoothly as it can.

She's pretty damn good at it, Fury tells her, and if she didn't know any better, she'd say he was proud.

Maria looks down at her drink. "Coulson started watching Supernanny, after the press conference where Stark came out as Iron Man. He said it helped."

"Supernanny?" Sitwell repeats, a smile hovering on the edge of his lips.

There's an uncomfortable knot in her throat, as she says, "He DVR'd it, all the time. I could probably get it for you."

Sitwell hums in reply, looking down at his coffee. He reaches over to the table, picks up a creamer. "I'd like that. I know he watched it, he quoted it every now and then, I just didn't know the reason why. Why..." He clears his throat, and looks up at her. "Is it strange that I would find getting his Supernanny collection to be better than getting his old mugs?"

"You got his old mugs?" she asks, and she feels a brief pang of jealousy.

"I haven't been able to actually use them, but yeah, I got them." Sitwell is quiet for a few moments, then pours the cold decaf coffee down the sink, and starts up another pot. “I think the worse thing is, we keep talking about him. A lot of agents die, but we’ve never talked about them.”

It’s easier, that way, Maria thinks. She doesn’t talk about her mother, and she doesn’t talk about Hendricks. In another few months, she won’t talk about Coulson.

“And the more we talk, the more I hear about him, the more I realize, I don’t think I ever really knew him. I don’t think any of us really know each other.”

Maria understands what Sitwell is going through, remembers going through it herself a few months back. But there’s an undercurrent to Sitwell’s tone that’s setting off warning bells -- he seems more nervous than she did. She knows better than to parrot Barton’s words, and instead just waits.

The coffeemaker beeps, and Sitwell pours himself a cup with short, jerky motions. He stares down at his mug -- white with the black SHIELD logo on it -- before turning back to Maria. “I don’t think any of us really know ourselves. Do you ever just wake up in the middle of the night and wonder what you're doing? Wonder why you’re doing it? How it got to the point where you don't know anyone, don't have a social life? Where you don't know your family anymore?"

Maria goes to Fury, and drops him a hint.

Sitwell takes two weeks of personal leave, after that.

 

\- -- -

 

After the incident down in New Mexico with the Destroyer, and the incident with Iron Man and Vanko and Hammer, and the incident in Harlem with the Hulk, SHIELD is spread a little thin, monetarily, and half of the agents have had their shifts cut down for the next week.

Which, Quartermain claimed, was as good an excuse as any to go out drinking.

A waitress comes and goes around their table; Quartermain and Sitwell order Buds, Coulson is back to Long Island Iced Tea, O'Grady orders a seltzer, Woo gets his fancy domestic beer. They're out of Corona, so Maria just gets a Becks.

At the bar, Blake is nursing a coke and rum.

Part of her thinks it was irresponsible of Fury to take seven of the strongest off active-duty all at the same. But as seven of the strongest, she knows they've all been on the roster the past week; Quartermain was in LA, Sitwell in New Mexico, Coulson in LA _and_ New Mexico, O'Grady in Harlem, Woo in LA, Blake on clean-up in LA. Maria herself spent the past week taking on double her work load, overseeing all oversea SHIELD missions, briefly becoming Acting Director when Fury had to humor Stark, managing the flow of agents from one part of the country to another.

And Maria definitely sees Fury's logic. Their drinks arrive, and she takes no time in knocking back half of the bottle, before tuning back into the conversation.

"It's not like we really need the money," Quartermain says, gesturing with his bottle of Bud.

O'Grady scoffs, and Sitwell adds, "Speak for yourself. I've got a wife and two kids out west. I need to save up for that trip to Disney World I promised them last year."

"Don't worry," Woo says. "I can guarantee you, at some point, a super villain will come and attack Disney World. You just need to cajole Fury into getting you in clean-up, and you can bring your family along, and write the expenses off."

"If I could just have one mission," Quartermain interrupts, "anywhere I'd like, I'd want to fight bad guys at Disney World. No casualties, just me, taking down AIM, or HYDRA, in the Happiest Place in the World."

"One mission, and that's what you'd chose?" Woo asks.

"Damn right. Why, where'd you go?" He turns to look at them all. "Where would any of you want to go?"

Sitwell says he was perfectly happy with what happened in Puente Antiguo. He admits he didn't really do much, but just being there, seeing what happened. Knowing what happened, what could have happened, and appreciating life all the more for it.

Coulson was also happy being out in the middle of nowhere, saving the world, but he adds that he wants to save the world with Captain America. Which garners some laughs, but it's all good-natured, and Coulson just waves the teasing off.

O'Grady doesn’t care what happens, he just wants his heroics to end up on YouTube, and for his daughter to be able to see Daddy save the world before SHIELD has the video removed.

Woo thinks his over for a few moments more, before launching into an epic tale of him going up single handedly against evil scientists with a flair for the dramatic. When he introduces the caged wolves and other genetically altered predators, he does his own sound effects, which garners him a small round applause when he finishes.

When the applause and laughter dies down, and they all look at Maria.

"Maui," she says.

"Sent by IMF?" Coulson asks, when no one else makes a comment.

"If IMF were involved, there would be a lot of masks and deception and untimely personal problems. I just want to be on the sunny beaches in paradise, kicking ass." It's obvious -- especially after Woo's performance -- that they're let down. She holds her hands up, and tries not to look smug as she pulls out her trump card. "I know it's not as exciting as Woo wrestling a liger, but it's more exciting than Fury's dream mission."

That catches their attention.

"Yellowstone."

They spend the rest of the night debating the odds -- and making bets on the likelihood -- of the volcano at Yellowstone erupting and Nick Fury punching out a reanimated Red Skull against a backdrop of lava.

 

\- -- -

 

On her birthday, there are four ‘cards’ set up on her desk -- the obligatory SHIELD card that agents pass around covertly, a nice card with gift certificate from Carla, a grainy grayscale picture of her slamming a frying pan into a man’s nose, and a postcard of Maui from Coulson.

It may be the best birthday she’s ever had.

She rethinks her position, two hours later, when she’s in the sewers fighting a giant genetically modified fish, along with Sitwell, O'Grady and Coulson. But they defeat the fish, so it could have gone worse.

After they’ve all showered off the sewer smell, Quartermain tosses a pink and purple lei around her neck, and joins them as they drag her to a thematic tropical bar, where they each buy her a pina colada.

Once Sitwell, O’Grady and Quatermain leave to return to their shifts, Coulson admits, “I tried drawing you fighting AIM and HYDRA lackeys, on the first card I got, but it didn’t look very good.”

But he buys her a Corona to make it up to her, and she shows him the still to show she forgives him.

 

\- -- -

 

She's given a week off, after that.

She spends an hour tracking down Coulson's sister, and finds her blog.

She also finds his sister's online shop, where she sells coffee mugs she makes in her free time, more for fun than profit. There are a few designs available, and there’s only one she hasn't seen Coulson carry around. It's October, but she buys one anyways, thinking she can get it for him as an early Christmas present. When it comes, she packs it snugly in a box, wraps it in silver wrapping paper.

Come November, though, the box is sitting in the bottom drawer of her desk. She still hasn't given it to him, and she doesn't know if she can. Doesn't know if she can point out to Phil that she noticed the inconsistency of his story. Doesn't know if she can remind him that there is an inconsistency.

It gets easier, he said.

She really wonders about that.

 

\- -- -

 

Maria is the reigning champ at darts, when Barton doesn't come in and crash the game. She worked at a bar while she was posted overseas, and in that time she learned how to play the game, and, more importantly, learned how to hustle.

The fact that Barton (greatest marksman in the world) managed to beat her doesn't annoy her nearly as much as the fact she let herself get hustled by him and lost two hundred bucks in the process.

She solves the problem but not playing when he's around. And he’s around, but as one of the three undercover agents that watch over the bar, not as a patron.

To her side, Woo is laughing. He worked as a caterer, during college, and before his brief stint in the FBI, and so they've been sharing horror stories, about difficult customers and co-workers. Neither were in high enough positions to get the really bad stories, but Maria has talked about the guy who kept stealing from the till even when the boss was right beside him, and Woo talks about how they once hired a guy for pastries who didn't even know how to properly measure flour.

Maria keeps her voice quiet as she talks about the thief, because it's an open secret that O'Grady barely made it into SHIELD, given his numerous convictions, both as an adult and as a juvenile -- his juvie record was sealed, supposedly, but SHIELD doesn't have much regard for those kinds of privacies.

Sitting across from O'Grady at their normal table is Quartermain. Judging by the animated hand gestures Quartermain is making, he’s probably talking about Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon, for which he has an almost religious reverence.

Maria wins her game against Woo, who hands over her five dollars (after that first -- and only -- game with Barton, she's never gone higher than a twenty; except for that one time with a group of out-of-town college students, who didn’t understand what ‘throw like a girl’ really meant), but doesn't do it grudgingly.

She pulls out her wallet, and slips the bill into it.

In her wallet is her SHIELD ID, her driver's license, a now-expired credit card, her debit card, a savings card for the local grocery store, and a credit card at a department store that she keeps pretending she'll go to, and buy more furniture for her apartment.

Her apartment has been bare for the past two and a half years, ever since she moved.

It occurs to her, that even though half the agents here have the security clearance to know where she lives, none of them know the only items of furniture in her apartment is a futon and a beat-up old armchair.

She has the security clearance to know where all of them live -- has the addresses memorized -- but she doesn’t know how they live. She can recite Quartermain's ode on 'On the Run' by heart by now, and she knows what Woo's greatest cooking skills were back in college, but she doesn't really know them, and they don't really know her.

The warm, close atmosphere of the bar is suddenly stifling, and Woo is back at their table, so she heads out of a side door, and into a back alley.

The alley is not empty, and Barton’s eyes are sharp as he looks her over, but doesn’t say anything.

“I thought you were on-duty,” she tells him, as she takes off her jacket, slings it over her shoulder. She knows he’s on-duty, saw Blake’s report that put him on bar duty, punishment for him going off-grid during his last mission.

“I’ve got a five minute break.”

“And how long have you been on that five minute break?”

He just flashes her a smile. “Not as long as I was off-grid.”

Maria doesn't know all of the details of Barton's last case, and she thinks Fury and Blake prefer it that way. She gives a vague noise of agreement, and spends a moment leaning back against the brick of the building, letting the cold air cool her face.

“If you want,” Barton says, a minute later, “I could go to the nearest liquor store, pick you up a pack of Corona.”

She raises an eyebrow, but isn’t surprised he knows. All information gets around, some way or another. It’s getting late, she should probably head back to her apartment. Her barely furnished, barely lived-in apartment. She pushes herself up the wall, gives Barton a nod, and starts towards the street.

“I tend to go for Sam Adams, myself.”

Maria turns, looks at him.

“That’s how I gauge my relationships, within SHIELD. If I trust them with my life, and if I trust them to buy me the right drink. Other information is good to know, but you’re never going to know everything about people here. Find one question you want to know the answer to, get the answers you need, and that’s all that’s important.” At her suspicious look, he explains, “I’m good at reading people.”

She shrugs her coat back on. “Does the Widow know to buy you Sam Adams?”

He shrugs in reply. “She usually buys me cheap tequila,” he replies.

“Which do you prefer?”

He’s got a half-smile on his face. “Buy me a drink sometime, and you’ll find out.”

 

\- -- -

 

“Need something, Hill?”

She walks into his office, and sets down a letter on his desk.

Fury picks it up, and looks at it.

“If you could add that into my personal effects, when you send them to my family...”

He gives her a sympathetic (on the Fury curve) smile, then buzzes Carla. “Carla, can you bring me Agent Hill’s file? The Council prefers protocol to dramatic gestures,” he tells her.

"Yes, Director Fury," Carla replies, sounding more subdued than normal. She's more subdued as she comes in, and sets a stack of papers down on Fury's desk, hands Maria a pen.

Check here. Initial here, and here. Sign here.

And then Carla signs, and Fury signs.

And then Petty Officer Maria Hill is dead. 

Maria sits down, and stares at where the area the papers had just been.

It’s anti-climactic. She was expecting some swell of emotion. Regret, grief, relief. She was expecting to feel numb, to feel different. Better.

She doesn't.

She doesn't feel better, she doesn't feel worse. She only feels a slight tremor in her hand, still gripping the pen she signed the papers with.

“Need anything?” Fury asks.

Maria carefully sets the pen down. She takes a deep breath, and lets it out in a short burst. "I need to shoot something."

Fury snorts. He pulls up a few displays, and slides through them. "If you don't mind heading down into the New York City sewer system again, I got a request to do recon on the Serpent Squad to head out in the next few minutes."

She's really not looking forward to spending hours in the sewers, but it's better than the alternative. "I'll take it."

"I'll tell them to expect you," he says, tapping at the display. When she's at the door to his office, he adds, "Take care of yourself, Hill."

 

\- -- -

 

In the end, she keeps the mug for herself.


End file.
